


What're friends for?

by orphan_account



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Cum Inside, FWB, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Name-Calling, ambiguous genitals on muddler, mild drug use, which hole is he in? the world may never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-31 02:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Joxter is on his rut and Muddler helps him out like a good pal





	What're friends for?

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to apologize to god and jesus for writing in detail about classic childrens book characters fucking while i was high off an edible

Joxter slunk back to his bunk, shoulders hunched forward and hands jammed into his pockets, trying to focus on where he put his pipe so he could have a smoke. A warm, tingling sensation was spreading over his body, not at all unpleasant, but its presence meant something inconvenient. His rut was setting in. At sea, with a boat full only of his friends, all of which took no interest in him and he certainly didn’t feel an inclination towards himself. They were fine folk for companionship and adventuring, but... Moomin openly teased Joxter's broad tastes and extensive history, he was sure Hodgkins hadn't done anything but underwhelm a date in his life, and Muddler was too scared to look anyone in the eye, he'd be surprised if the guy had done so much as held someone's hand. Even if they were interested in a platonic romp, there was absolutely no untouchable appeal there for him. So that left him facing a week of powerfully surging libido and absolutely no one but his right hand to help him with it.  
Brows furrowed, he pushed the wooden door to the shared quarters of the ship open with the side of his fist. He snatched his pipe and accoutrements from one of the boat’s built-in wall shelves and fell into the crumpled blankets of his bunk.  
He expertly packed his pipe and lit it; after a few puffs, taking a long slow inhale and leaning his head far back against his pillow. He exhaled, eyes closed. He kept his head tilted back, eyes opening just to slits to watch the smoke curl lazily upward. He blew into the cloud, causing the gentle wisps to curl around each other faster and dissipate into the air. He knew the radiating tingling sensation that lit his blood wasn’t going to go away, but at least he could distract himself from it. Only another few days at sea, Hodgkins had said. They’d been thrown off course in a storm and had to spend a bit longer than they’d planned on their journey back to the valley, but everyone had been bright about it. Plenty of extra rations packed, and their extra days were spent fishing and lounging. Joxter had enjoyed the extra time and was in no rush to return home, but the time of year had completely slipped his mind until he began to feel a persistent, desperate pounding in his pulse, that seemed to radiate from between his legs. Joxter finished his pipe with a sense of purpose and, relaxed enough and lounging a bit in the warm, full-body glow of his dull arousal that made the simple sensation of his body against the mattress feel impossibly good, drifted to sleep.

A groan woke Joxter, and he realized with some chagrin it had come from his own mouth. He cussed quietly and dug the palm of his hand hard against the front of his trousers. He suppressed a second groan at the pressure against his crotch, what normally might be painful sent a wave of enjoyment through the rest of him, just thankful at being touched if even roughly. He resisted bucking his hips to rut against his hand, and slyly turned over to check the room behind him. The small porthole window situated in between the two sets of double bunks let in only the pinprick lights of distant stars, and he could make out two still, mounded shapes under blankets occupying the bunks opposite his. His eyes darted up, to find the dark shape of a foot hanging over the edge of the bunk above his own. He sat in the stillness for a moment to collect his thoughts and heard nothing but quiet breathing and the gentle lap of waves against the sides of the boat. Joxter growled low in his throat at how awake he felt at such an hour, and how his body ached and begged for attention. Perhaps this was an advantage though; with everyone asleep, the upper deck was empty, and he could head up there to help slake his needs. Besides, this bunk room was stiflingly hot. He felt keenly aware of things like the warmth of breath and bodies, like a weight that clung and pulled down on the air around him, trying to draw him in, to press himself against someone, anyone, became tempting. As stealthily as he could, crept out of his bed and up the narrow wooden steps to the upper deck.  
Joxter closed the heavy ship’s cabin door behind him softly, and took a moment to enjoy the cool salty air blowing across him. He inhaled deeply through his nose and darted his tongue over his lips, finding his lower lip unconsciously following back into his mouth and pinned between his sharpest teeth. A breathy sigh escaped him and he was already pawing lazily at the front of his pants.  
He rubbed with the soft but firm muscle of his palm near his thumb against his crotch a few times, feeling his dick throb harder and harder, and pulled it free. He spat into his hand and set to work, starting off with a quick pace without meaning to, and letting his head roll back with enjoyment. He gripped the railing of the ship with his free hand, eyes shut, imagining he was gripping the back of some sweet thing’s hair, his dick worked by an eager tongue.  
“J-j-joxter?” Came a weak call from behind him, and the mumrik’s eyes flew open as he hurriedly corralled his cock back into his pants, sliding the thing up against his body by his waistband so he didn't make a tent. He didn't turn, he just gripped the banister._ Fuck._  
“O-oh its d-dark out here,” The Muddler mumbled purely to himself before continuing, “Are you alright?” The slight man had positioned himself almost horizontally, with as much of his body as he could keep hidden away still in the cabin with just his head peeked out and the tips of his fingers curled nervously around the door.  
“Yes! Just enjoying the view and time to myself.” Joxter still didn't turn to see him but raised a hand to wave; a dismissal.  
“Oh g-good!” Muddler replied cluelessly, “M-may I j-join you? I c-can't sleep, and I'm rather fond of time to m-myself as well.”  
“Oh. No.” Joxter's fake-cheery tone disappeared instantly. “I'm actually not alright, I'm quite sick. You'd best let me be before you catch it as well.”  
“D-dreadful!” Muddler called back, “I'll um, g-go inside then!”

Joxter grumbled as he heard the door slide back into place behind him. Can a man not simply nut in peace. He waved away the conversation like it was a cloud in his mind, and returned his hand to his waistband. Where was I… He consciously flipped through the imagined masturbatory scenario in his head, playing through some of the earlier stages faster, and his dick was enveloped in a warm, imaginary tongue once again. He stroked more slowly, but with fimer pressure as he pulled out, imagining a mouth with soft pliant lips sucking hungrily as its owner bobbed their head back and forth. He held his hand steady in a ring and started to buck his hips, growling low in pleasure.

The cabin door slid against the wood deck once more, and Joxter froze. His dick throbbed impatiently in his hand, just another minute and he'd have been finished. He squeezed down on it hard and slipped it back into his waistband carefully.  
“I h-hope this helps,” Muddler said as brightly as he could in his trembling voice as he padded towards Joxter. Joxter sucked in air through his teeth and whipped his head to watch the mouse approach. He was carrying a steaming bowl of soup. He must've gone back inside to heat it up.  
“Y-you went to bed before d-d-dinner, b-but luckily we had l-leftovers, a-and it happens to be soup, and s-soup is g-good for um, sickness.” Muddler had reached Joxter, and stared dumbly at him, with the bowl between his paws and a spoon tucked in his overcoat pocket. Joxter's eyes were always a bit unnerving, but now they were downright frightening. He looked dishevelled, unslept, sweat-slick, feral, and _hungry_, in a way that only creatures with sharp teeth could.   
As frustrated as he felt at being interrupted again, the smell of the soup hit Joxter’s nose and he felt his mouth water. Figures, rut makes a body want nothing but to eat, sleep, fuck, or fight, and they tend to bleed together. Muddler trembled like a dry leaf, his eyes darting around taking in Joxter's haggard appearance, his wild eyes, his sweat-slicked brow and hair, his unbuttoned undershirt. He may have been reconsidering this favor. Joxter felt need spike in his gut at the inviting, warm smell. Of the soup. Of Muddler. His cock throbbed demandingly and he managed to turn a moan into a menacing growl.  
Joxter was never a man who minced words, but tonight in particular he felt like an animal for whom every care but for base primal urges dropped completely away, so the words came out:  
“Unless you're here to suck my cock, go back in the boat.”  
Muddler's face went awash with pink. His eyes were locked on Joxter’s, but only because he was frozen in shock. They quickly fell to the floor but still hung wide, searching the floorboards.  
“U-um,” Muddler answered, noncommittally.  
The rational part of Joxter's brain wish he hadn't said something so crass, but the rational part of Joxter's brain was shrinking inside him. The primal heat that burned through him inside and out surged in triumph. Funner to be mean on heat too, with much lower impulse control. _That'll get the little thing back inside and leave me be_, Joxter thought, staring at the top of Muddler’s head as the awkward little man floundered.  
“Y-y-y-y-you r-really m-m-must not b-b-be f-feeling w-w-well at all,” Muddler mumbled shyly into his scarf with a very nervous giggle, having even more difficulty than usual in getting through his words. He couldn't look back at Joxter's face, but quietly put the bowl of soup on a wooden bench seat against the railing nearby. Joxter watched him place it gingerly, avoiding his eyes as completely as he could, his face still burning red. Joxter grinned sharply as he watched the tiny man, drowning in his coats, relishing having scared him off. But Muddler didn't leave. He took another step towards Joxter, and then lifted his careful hands to rest the back of one against Joxter's forehead. He still tilted his head firmly away in embarrassment, his lips pinched together tight, only darting quick looks at Joxter, like he was a wild beast sure to snap his arms clean off and finish the rest of him off soon after.  
That's precisely how Joxter felt in this moment. He snatched Muddler’s hand away with a snarl, holding him tight by the wrist, and bared his teeth in a grimace.  
“You're b-b-burning up! Y-you m-m-must be very ill!” Muddler cried in defense, the panic in his eyes was a constant but he looked more intimidated than usual. Joxter still held tight to his wrist, and Muddler though shrinking away in fear, didn't struggle from his grip.  
“Oh I am very ill, little mouse.” Joxter simmered with wild urges, and his voice came from a dark place deep in his chest. He brought Muddler's arm in closer, dragging Muddler along with it, closer to his face. He could hear his short fearful breaths, feel the weight of his body tensing nervously against his grip, smell the inviting coffee scent of his fur. He looked soft, he wondered how his body felt beneath the thick several layers of coats he always wore.  
Joxter let him go with a start, flinging him a bit away from himself, trying to find a grip on his intentions. Muddler stumbled back and tripped on his own feet, falling backwards. He squealed and hit the deck flat, knocking the pan clean off his head. Muddler groaned, in pain no doubt, but the sound ripped into Joxter’s guts like a bolt of electricity. His breath caught and he suppressed an involuntary moan of his own. Anger flared to the surface of his emotions.  
“Why are you out here?” Joxter snarled down at Muddler, splayed ungracefully on the deck. His knees knocked and his ankles were wide but twisted in. He stayed down, looking up fearfully at Joxter. Something in his prone position, his expectant gaze, felt like an invitation and pulled Joxter in. Pulled him down. Without trying, he was on top of him. Joxter suspended his body above the man beneath but only barely, and his hips ached to push forward against the soft body under him. He was resisting his urges but he was still close enough that he wasn't sure.  
“Can't you see you're bothering me?” He choked out, his voice dark and mean.  
Joxter kept his face low and close to the side of Muddler's head, avoiding eye contact, taking in deep breaths of his scent despite himself. Muddler smelled like clean wool, roast coffee beans, salty sand and sweat. He smelled delicious, like something Joxter wanted to tear the clothes off of and sink his teeth into, somewhere between fuck and food. Joxter drank in the smell of the smaller man, the prey animal trembling underneath him. He buried his nose in the soft curls at Muddler's ear, intoxicated by his scent, by the warmth his body radiated.  
“Y-y-you're on y-your uh-- y-y-your um…” Muddler's voice was frail and small. He made no attempt to get out from under Joxter or move away from his advances, but his hands twisted up in each other at his chest.  
“I kn-know you're on y-y-your um, y-your rut, J-joxter,” he finished with a hard swallow, “I th-thought it m-might be, anyway. B-b-but now I'm sure.”  
Joxter growled. He was beyond words. It was a very thin strand of his remaining restraint that kept him back from the full strength of his wants.  
Muddler continued, “I g-g-get them t-too… I th-th-thought m-m-m-maybe I c-could… h-help.”  
“Help?!” Joxter snarled back incredulously, but felt a tentative hand slide into the hair at the back of his head. Before he could even fully register the sign, his hands had found their way to Muddler's buttons and were tearing them off down his coat. He bucked his hips forward mindlessly, squeezing his cock hard between his body and Muddler's, and finally allowed himself a loud moan of enjoyment. Muddler trembled and his breath caught at the shameless sound. Joxter's body surged with pleasure and one of his hands found the back of Muddler's neck and encircled it, holding him tightly in place. Joxter took a moment to really savor the sensation of grinding himself against the other man, finding his lips pressed to his neck, his breath ragged, his mind slipping further away.  
If Joxter was more coherent, he'd have been surprised at how pliant Muddler was, easily sliding his legs out of the way, letting Joxter press into the softness of his inner thigh, moving his head up to let Joxter slide his mouth so close to his throat. He whimpered and trembled, but he moved his arms out of the way, up over his head, and let his friend press soft breathy sounds out of him.  
Joxter bared his teeth against Muddler's neck and sucked in air for another long moan, his free hand now slid up Muddler's stomach and chest. Muddler squirmed under his touch, but arched his back cautiously into him. Joxter needed no further invitation, and wrapped his arm under Muddler's spine and raked his claws down his back and then sunk them into his ass as he squeezed. Joxter was rewarded with a squeal, which he answered by testing a firm bite at the side of Muddler's neck. He released quickly, but raked his sharp teeth against the skin, wanting more. Muddler cussed softly under him, his hands wound up in Joxter's hair, now needily. Joxter bit him again and again, sucking and teasing him with his tongue, leaving shallow teeth marks and red bursts blooming across his collarbone and neck and chest.  
Joxter pulled back and sat up on his knees, looking down in delirious appreciation at his partner as he pulled his cock from his pants. He stroked it a couple times himself kneeling over him, watched as Muddler laid back breathless and waiting but too nervous to move. His coat already open and exposing the soft flesh of his chest and belly, Joxter ripped his pants open at the seams with his claws, exposing Muddler from throat to ass with a cry of surprise. Joxter was back on him in an instant, using one hand to guide his slick, knotted cock into Muddler while the other twisted and tugged meanly in his hair. Muddler keened and arched into him, still pink-cheeked and trembling, but wrapping his long legs diligently around Joxter's back.  
“You little slut,” Joxter found the words to growl in Muddler's ear to small whimpers, “You dirty little whore, you want my cock so bad huh? You couldn't resist?” He began thrusting hard, prompting Muddler to scream and hold him tighter, his eyes squeezed shut.  
Joxter pumped into him steadily, enjoying how small and frail his body felt under him, his softness, the way he shook like he could barely stand it but still clung tight and moved with him, trying to smash their bodies together, to get as close as he could, to open his legs wide and let the full length of Joxter's cock reach deep inside him. Joxter's mouth found Muddler's neck again and he bit harder and harder, trying to make Muddler scream. Tears streamed down Muddler's face and he held his lower lip between his teeth and cried out haltingly in a mix of pain and pleasure. Joxter slammed into Muddler unrelentingly, the thick swell at the base of his cock teasing him a little wider each time. His jaws clamped around Muddler's shoulder, and he thrust in hard, stretching Muddler onto his knot all at once with a wet _pop_. Muddler cried out again, twisting his hands into Joxter's shirt at his back, his body tensing up as he rattled through his orgasm with a few stuttered cusses. Joxter still pumped at him, stuck inside but still moving his hips, pulling at Muddler's hole. He wasn't far behind, and with a moan, came hard inside Muddler. He rode it out with slowly pulsing hips, breathing steady but hard, savoring the heat, the satisfaction that washed over him as he felt his cum drain out in thick spurts.

Muddler lay limp on the hard wooden deck below him, panting, flushed, covered in red marks that would be bruises tomorrow. He braved a glance up at Joxter, and as he met his eyes, his hands flew to cover his face.  
“You're embarrassed.” Joxter teased with not a shred of mercy.  
Muddler shook his head no without moving his hands away, and Joxter laughed dryly.  
“You're stuck here with me for a bit longer,” he panted, gesturing with nod down to his knot still swollen inside Muddler, linking them. His face neared Muddler's cheek again.  
“You wanted this,” he teased in a low murmur, and nipped at Muddler's ear, bucking his hips slightly just to probe a little deeper into Muddler's body.  
Muddler squirmed, a muffled whine coming from under his palm.  
“Slut.” Joxter spat at him again, this time triumphantly, prying his hands from his face and pinning them above his head.  
“Y-you s-s-said you n-needed help.” Muddler replied in a quiet voice, his face still burning, not meeting Joxter's eyes.  
“Ah, what're friends for, right?” Joxter purred into his neck, delivering another teasing drag of his teeth. Muddler shivered and mumbled incomprehensibly.  
He pulled his hips back against Muddler again and this time popped free, sending a stream of cum out from between Muddler's spread legs.  
“I appreciate it, mouse.” His voice was so mean his thanks sounded like a threat.  
“Since you're so easy, maybe I'll just come straight to you the next time I need to fuck some brainless little slut.” That was definitely a threat.  
Muddler folded his legs together shyly and wrapped his coat around himself to cover his nakedness. He chewed his lip, and finally met Joxter's gaze.  
“P-p-p-please?”  
Joxter grinned.


End file.
